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Ch. 2: A Peaceful Quiet
Back to Arheled September came to Winsted. The maples were turning brown and crumply at the edges of their leaves, due to the damp week in spring, and the elms and ash began to turn yellow and brown. Occasional pale orange broke out on branches here and there. The elderberries were nearly done. The weather was mildly hot, with a bright pleasant sun and a cool pleasant taste in the air. Chestnuts grew pale green balls on their twigs, thorny and still tight shut. Leaves beaten down by the storm littered the ground and increased the autumn feel. Mornings were cool and thick with dew. The woods had a burnished appearance, as if they were crusting yellow and brown. “Up in Winsted they only seem to have had a few trees down.” Travel said over the phone to Carlee, who had actually picked up. “Colebrook had whole areas without power, though. We used a generator but Grandmother just laughed at us.” “Yeah, they closed the spillway and drained the lake so it’s not flowing over the road.” Carlee’s clear, hearty voice sounded from the phone. “Some of the pavement peeled right up. Laughed? Why, is she so old she grew up without power?” “She’s pretty old,” said Travel, “but she’s old-fashioned too, so she uses candles and stuff anyway. And our boarder, old man Wayham, well…he’s a character. Hey, you wanna do lunch? My battery is low.” “Sure.” said Carlee. “Let me see…I get out at 3, and I’m supposed to go out with Dave at 8:00; we’re going to the drive-in. We’re gonna watch Spy Kids and Planet of the Apes while he fingers me in the darkness, ha ha.” “I hope you get firm with him!” “No sweat, honey, I’ve got more respect for myself than that. I really like him, though. Maybe I should marry him.” “Has he proposed yet?” giggled Travel. “Honey,” Carlee’s voice suddenly sounded very weary and sad, “men these days never propose. They’ll go to bed with you, even move in with you, but show them a ring and they freak and run.” “Not all men are like that.” said Travel staunchly. “Yeah, a few, but you could probably count them on one hand. Don’t mind me. I’m just twenty-five and hoping to be a mom before I’m too old to have any. Oh, yeah, your battery is low. Say, you want to try Sophia’s? They have awesome pizza.” “Sounds good. So, maybe 4 or 5?” “Sure. Let’s say 4:30. I’ll meet you there.” Travel pulled into the Super Stop&Shop plaza at 4:00. She had some cans to cash. Putting them through the machine reminded her of the first time she met Ronnie, and she giggled. Maybe she should play matchmaker and try fixing Carlee up with him—he certainly was not the type to panic at the thought of marriage. Carlee was getting out of her car when Travel drove over to the wing of the plaza facing the street. The plaza was a single immense square, most of which in the middle was Super Stop & Shop, with a row of small stores in the side facing the street, and a row of stores at the rear. Sophia’s occupied a narrow section of front, a red-and-blue sign announcing they were open, and another neon in orange, white and green—the Italian colors—proclaiming the excellence of the Italian cuisine. Travel hugged Carlee and looked her over. She had fine wrinkles in the corners of her eyes since the days when she and Travel were in the ice skating club, but her tanned face and legs were smooth and shapely, and she had a figure Travel could die for. Her straw-yellow hair was curly and her pleasant hearty face was lit with a smile. She wore a clinging top and brief cutoff shorts. “You don’t look so bad.” said Travel. “Neither do you.” laughed Carlee. “In fact, I think you’ve actually gotten pretty.” “You’re just being nice.” giggled Travel. “I like being nice, especially to nice people.” “Ha ha.” They walked into the restaurant. To enter they went up a long aisle, separated by a low partition from the dining area on the right. Facing them was a cubbyhole with swinging doors where one of the waitresses stood, a soda cooler on the right glowing red and blue and green with its’ colorful beverages. Turning right at the cubbyhole they faced a further dining area in a recess in the wall, around the corner of the soda cooler. They took a seat in the main area, in one of the side tables: these had cushioned seats. The cushions were red, the tables beige, and the chairs around the central tables were dark brown and tan. Hand-dipped candles in fall colors hung in pairs from a decorative rack. The prevailing color was beige and tan; the low helmet-like lamps above the tables, the ceiling fans, the wood cutouts fastened to the wall to look like beams, were darker tan and bronze. The light was yellow, fitting the beige walls and grey carpet. Several very pretty waitresses, in black pants and thin white shirts, hurried about attending to the many patrons. Travel ordered soup and Carlee garlic bread, and both agreed on what kind of small pizza they wanted. While they were waiting, Carlee folded her hands so her fingers were pressed together and said, “So, you have a boarder?” “You might call him that.” said Travel enigmatically. “He’s very old. I think he was thirty or so in 1611, although he looks nearly fifty now. Sometimes his manners are practically uncouth, and then at other times he bears himself with such a stern ancient wisdom you—feel like bowing on one knee.” she blurted. “Wait—what? He was around in when?” “I know it sounds crazy,” said Travel, “but believe me, I’m getting used to strange things. I mean, when you’re held captive by a dragon who turns out to be your own mom, you—well, that’s all over and done with.” “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your imagination is running away with you.” said Carlee. “You’re not going to believe this—but I saw people turning into dragons. At the carnival. And I saw the Wild Man of Winsted when he haunted the town that night. He stopped,” her voice fell to a whisper, and he stared at me, and then he sort of bowed and headed off.” “Yeah, he’s a pretty creepy sort of fellow.” said Travel. “I’ve seen him before. Even had a picnic with him once, me and the others.” “I—wow. So he’s a real person, then? I read the old records—after that day, I’ll bet half Winsted did. Does he actually talk?” “He’s—fay.” said Travel. “Very queer. Very dangerous. Fortunately he’s on a rather tight leash. Was Dave there when you saw him?” “Dave doesn’t believe me.” said Carlee, waving her hand. “We got separated just before the dragon-attack—I think he went to find a portapot—and he never came back, and I thought he was dead until he called me the day after. He thinks he was on a trip when he saw the dragons. You know, high. Pot.” “Ronnie was right in the thick of it.” said Travel. “Oh, sorry, my friend Ronnie Wendy. He’s a very unusual guy. The girls don’t like him, though.” “How come? Is he ugly?” Travel laughed. “No, he’s really striking in his own way, but he has such sharp eyes and such an odd way of looking at things; and he’s religious, too. The Winsted girls are all just out for sex. He isn’t. I guess they feel that.” “He sounds interesting.” said Carlee thoughtfully. Then she gave a sly grin. “Does he freak if you show him a ring?” “I think he’d prefer to do the showing himself.” said Travel dryly. “But yes, he’s very responsible. He sticks to things. I think you’d like him.” “Hmm, playing matchmaker, are we? But I’ll go along. It might even be fun. See if you can get him to the beach for the Labor Day weekend. What’s his name again?” “Ronnie Wendy.” Carlee’s eyes leaped. “Oh my gosh, I think I know him! Does he have red hair and a sharp, kind of serious face?” “That’s him.” “Wow, I can’t believe this! I met him while night swimming with some of my friends. He was really intriguing. We drifted out on the lake in tubes, and he was pointing out the stars and telling me about ruins on Pratt Hill. You know, I think a date with him might be fun.” “Want me to give him a call?” Carlee giggled. “How about you just arrange to meet him at the beach, introduce us, and then fade away and drive off? That way we can keep it casual—unless of course he asks me out.” “Why do they call it Sophia’s?” Travel asked their waitress, who was clearing off their dishes. “You know, I really have no idea.” said the girl. “But you can ask him.” pointing to an Italian-looking man in a red apron who was talking with some of the customers. He looked quite pleased when two pretty girls came up and asked him about the name, but he didn’t know either. “I just manage it, and do the cooking.” he shrugged. “The owner, she never come in, you know? I never see her. It’s called Sophia’s ever since I remember.” “What’s the owner’s name?” Carlee smiled. “I think it is Laran, Mrs. Laran, something like-a that. I only see it on a signature, it-a hard to make it out, no?” Ronnie, as usual, didn’t pick up his phone, so Travel heaved a deep sigh and gathered her thoughts as she waited for the idiot recorded voice to stop telling her obvious things. There, that was the beep that meant she could finally leave a message. Casual? Should she leave a long message with all the details, or just a “Call me back”? Deciding on the latter, she said airily, “Hey Ronnie, this is Travel, can you call me back? My number is 860-378-5129.” She had scarcely put the phone away for five minutes when it rang. “Hull, Travel.” said Ronnie’s voice when she answered. “What’s up?” He had that humerous, wry drawl in his voice again that always reminded her of John Wayne. “Oh, hey Ronnie. Um, me and a couple of friends were thinking of heading over to the beach for Sunday, and I figured you’re probably just going to go mooch your way into somebody else’s group so I might as well invite you along.” “Sounds like fun.” said Ronnie. Still that John Wayne drawl. “Whereabouts?” “Um, that long beach near the boat launch, on Highland Lake, you know—“ “Holland Beach? Sure. What time?” Terse and to the point. His voice was back to Ronnie again. “Um, probably about 1:00, maybe 1:30. See you there?” “I’ll be there. Bye, Travel.” Click. Ronnie had a prepaid phone, which ran 25 cents a minute; as he did little calling it worked well enough. But as a result he seldom was very chatty when he did call. “This’ll be interesting.” she said aloud. Labor Day weekend was hot, sticky and cloudy. A cool breeze was blowing when Travel parked near the beach. The sand was whiteish-tan in the corner lot and on the narrow ribbon of beach, and the lake homes, white and green with trees, looked furry with the soft air. Carlee was waiting in her car, and there was Ronnie, just locking his bike up to the green chain-link fence between beach and boat launch. He unslung his backpack as he walked over. “There you are!” sad Travel. “Oh, Ronnie, this is my friend Carlee.” “Hello.” smiled Ronnie as he shook her hand. “Hey, I remember you!” Carlee exclaimed. “You know me? We went night swimming here.” “I thought you looked familiar,” said Ronnie, smiling like a schoolboy. Carlee laughed. “Where’d the portapot go?” wondered Travel. “Oh, didn’t you know? it floated off on the hurricane, they gave it a new name, the Stinkin’ Scumpot! ''It sailed all over First Bay until they slapped a biohazard symbol on it and sailed it to Long Island Sound.” Ronnie said elaborately. “Nahh, they hauled it off for end-of-the-season. Town couldn’t pay the dues.” “You are so ''funny!” Carlee gasped, bending over with laughter. Travel had an expression of suspended belief. “Oh well, I guess if anyone has to change we’ll just have to walk all the way around to the boat launch.” Two portapots stood there. “Naw, I have my suit under my pants.” said Ronnie. “Yeah, same here.” said Travel. “It pretty much looks like it’s just us, Ronnie. Vanessa said she might come, and Kyle was thinking about it, but the others just cancelled. So we might as well go in.” “Hey, it’ll still be fun.” smiled Carlee. “Oh, hold on, guys.” said Travel, fumbling for her phone and heading around the car. It actually hadn’t rung, but being matchmaker involved a plot as elaborate as a criminal heist. She pretended to talk for a little and then rejoined the others. “Was that Vanessa?” said Carlee. “Nahh.” sighed Travel. “It looks like I’m not sticking around very long, guys. That was my dad. His car broke down and I have to pick him up in half an hour or so.” “Well, let’s have some fun while we can.” said Carlee brightly, but the mood was already perilously close to spoiling. Travel felt it. Who knows what Ronnie felt—he was sensitive to the oddest things, but he was a guy, and guys are dense. “Did you bring the tubes?” he was teasing Carlee. “Even better.” and she unstrapped, of all things, a surfboard from her roof. It was hideous and garish, in zebra-style tropical colors, but it floated, and that was all that mattered. Carlee carried it across the street. They took off their clothes, Ronnie in a heavy who-cares guy way, the girls more breezily, as if casually performing, well aware of the stunning effect of their revealed beauty. Travel wore a red two-piece, not very revealing as she had a low opinion of her own figure. Carlee evidently had no such doubts; her grey and blue bikini showed her off to perfection. Ronnie seemed, however, to be more attracted by her vivacious face and its’ changing expressions. Ronnie plowed into the water, man-style, ignoring the cold. The girls waded up to their knees and began acting all wussy, as girls always do when there are boys to watch them. “Eeek! It’s cold!” shrieked Carlee. “My legs are frozen!” hollored Travel. Ronnie proceeded to splash them, causing both girls to scream and run frantically along the beach for a few steps, before coming to a stop, laughing. “Come on, Travel!” Ronnie berated. “You must go swimming! It’s a law!” “I’ll get wet if you will.” giggled Travel to Carlee. “No, you first.” she laughed back. “Hurry up before I just souse you.” threatened Ronnie. The girls were thigh-deep now, shrieking every time a wave slapped them. “No, I’m coming, I’m coming,” Carlee yelped, as Ronnie headed toward them. Ronnie bent down, grabbed her around the knees with one arm and around her back with the other, and hoisted her clear out of the water. “Aaa! Put me down, put me down!” squealed Carlee. “Certainly.” and he dropped her full-length in deep water. She went completely under and came up gasping and laughing, her yellow hair dark and streaming. “It’s cold, it’s cold, it’s cold!” she shouted. “How’s the water?” teased Travel. “Oh, it actually does feel really nice, now I’m wet.” said Carlee, wading out deeper. Ronnie swam beside her, pushing the surfboard. “I want to ride on that.” said Travel. “Well, you’re gonna have to get wet first!” retorted Carlee. Travel plunged under and came up breathless. “Yep, it’s cold.” she said. Carlee had scrambled up on the board and was trying to stand, a difficult task with the waves and with Ronnie rocking the board until she fell in. Travel laughed hysterically and managed to climb on, but fell in as soon as she stood up. “You rocked it!” she yelled at Ronnie. “I didn’t even touch it!” “You’ll just have to face it, girl, you have no sense of balance.” teased Carlee. “Oh, that’s right! Travel, when did you have to leave?” said Ronnie. “Oh my gosh. I forgot all about it. I should probably leave now.” said Travel. “Vanessa should be coming up in a little while, unless she bows out, and Kyle might come, if you two want to stick around.” “That’s all right, we’ll be fine.” smiled Carlee. “Bye, Travel.” said Ronnie. “Sorry you couldn’t stay.” “S all right.” she said. “There’ll be other times. Take care, Ronnie! Thank you so much for coming!” “Thank you for inviting me.” said Ronnie. Travel swam ashore and quickly dressed, and then with a wave got into her car and drove off. Carlee and Ronnie were left, holding to the board, swimming out in the deep water. “This is nice.” said Carlee, lifting her face to the warm brightness of the white sky. “We’ve pretty much got the beach to ourselves.” “Hey, let’s ride out past the buoys.” “I got a better idea. How about both of us ride on the board?” “You sure we’ll fit?” said Ronnie dubiously. “Hey, we can try!” Ronnie vaulted onto the board in a single motion. Carlee hoisted herself on her elbows, sprawled full length on her stomach and stayed there, breasts squashed against the board, her legs churning fruitlessly. She peered up at him with a helpless look. “I’m stuck.” she said. “You look positively fetching when you’re stuck.” he told her. “Yeah, you just like taking advantage of girls in helpless situations.” Ronnie, crouched on all fours with splayed arms, braced himself and grabbed her hand. With a mighty pull he helped her on board. The two of them sat, facing each other, almost in each other’s arms. “Oh, this is ridiculous!” giggled Carlee. “Not completely.” said Ronnie. He slipped over the side and scrambled back on, till both of them were astride the board and facing the same way. “Let’s row!” They splashed and churned frantically, trying to keep the surfboard’s head into the waves. It wasn’t helpful that their combined weight had pushed the board slightly under water, although it felt really nice when waves hit them in the middle. Finally Carlee bent over till she was pretty much on top of Ronnie, and then she could muster enough leverage to paddle. “You don’t mind, do you?” she laughed. “I’m practically breathing down your back.” “I find the proximity to be very pleasing.” Ronnie replied. “By all means, continue to examine my dorsal muscles.” “Yeah, with my breasts.” Her bosom was crushed up against his backbone. His muscles flexed and moved pleasantly under her. “It is doubtful if I have the necessary dorsal muscles to carry Piglet to the ceiling.” “What??” “Sorry, Winnie-the-Pooh quote.” “Oh yeah, that was Owl’s excuse for not rescuing Piglet, wasn’t it?” They managed, splashing and wallowing, with a great deal of laughter and mayhem, to make it nearly to the first of the tall buoys before a wave bigger than the others toppled them both underwater. They surfaced, laughing like maniacs, and decided to swim back. It took a while, as they would stop to rest, drifting and holding on, for long periods. “This is '' so—much—fun!” shouted Carlee when they got to where they could touch bottom. Ronnie laughed, as best he could: the cold water was beginning to tell. “Oh my gosh, you’re shaking!” she exclaimed. “Am not.” retorted Ronnie through clenched teeth. His muscles were chattering. “Just a little cold.” Carlee put one hand on his vibrating arm. “Riiiight.” she drawled. “Well, I’m cold anyway, so I’m going on shore.” They towelled themselves dry and sat on the beach for a while. The air was damp and warm. Ronnie stopped shaking after some time. It was very nice and companionable. “This has been a lot of fun.” said Carlee. “Hey, you wanta grab something to eat?” “This is turning into a date.” smiled Ronnie. “Say, weren’t you with some guy when I first met you?” “Dave? Yeah, we’re dating, but we’re not really serious. I mean, he’s all ‘Let’s go and ''do '' it.’ and I’m all ‘Nahh, I think I’ll wait,’ but if I even mention marriage he panics.” “Well, if we run into him we’ll say we’re waiting for our friends to join us.” He laughed, a little artificially. “A pity. I’d have liked to ask you out.” Carlee looked at him for a long time. “You’re sweet.” she said at last. “Well, let’s try Sophia’s; Dave and I never go there. And we’ll see how things happen.” “You’re nice.” mused Ronnie. “Most girls would be making excuses by now.” “Well, I kinda like you, Ronnie.” she said archly. “Thanks, I like you too.” “You’re sweet.” “You said that already.” Still bantering, they got into her car and drove to the boat launch to change out of their suits. “I forgot to bring underwear,” laughed Carlee, “so I’ll have to just ‘go commando’ and wear nothing underneath. It doesn’t show, does it?” “Not that I can see; but then, I have so few opportunities to judge what women are supposed to look like underneath.” “Oh dear, we’ve got to broaden your horizons….Maybe a few porn movies…a nude beach or two…I’m just fooling. Stop giving me that stunned look or I’ll laugh so hard I’ll crash into that cop car in front of us.” “I would hate to be responsible for such a public service.” said Ronnie, recovering his poise. Carlee found that remark so funny that the dreaded event came perilously close to happening. “You really don’t like the police, do you?” she said when she had recovered. “They are a necessary evil.” said Ronnie. “But it is not demanded of you to like the evil, however needed it may be. All that is demanded of us is that we respect it.” Carlee gave him a long, strange look. “How can you respect an evil?” “Well,” said Ronnie as they pulled into the Stop & Shop plaza, “to respect something means to render it what regard is proper to it. For instance, a dog is barking. You avoid the dog, because you respect its’ teeth. Your parents order you to do something, and you do it, but not out of respect. The bond of parenthood demands something higher than respect, namely honor. Whereas when you see a policeman, you speak politely and avoid drawing his attention, because you respect his power to harass and persecute you.” “I thought it was because they have authority.” said Carlee as they headed inside Sophia’s. Ronnie took a seat at a table in the back. “Christ never said they have authority.” he replied. “He told Pilate that Pilate had power over him, '' which had been given him from above.” “What’s the difference between power and authority?” “Power is defined as the ability to do something. Authority is the right to do something. The Pope, for instance, has the right to teach infallibly under pain of sin that such and such must be believed or done. A legitimate ruler also has authority to pass laws regulating the common good. However, he is limited to passing only those laws that uphold the common good and do not defy the moral law. His power, on the other hand, is different: he has the power to do whatever he can get away with doing, long after his authority has passed away.” “You mean a tyrant, for instance.” “Interesting you chose that word. Most people use the word dictator. But yes, a tyrant is one who rules unjustly. He has '' power'', ability to carry out his unjustice, but he has no authority and may lawfully be overthrown. Now in the case of our government, it’s a little less clear-cut. We’ve legally murdered infants for nearly forty years. Our government, therefore, has no authority. However, most of our laws still uphold the common good. Our government, therefore, is not unjust. That is why we still obey traffic laws while protesting abortion.” “I don’t know.” objected Carlee. “If you serve a country which does not serve God, how can you serve God yourself?” “You’ve read De Wohl??” “Way back. Just his novel on St. Thomas Aquinas, though. I saw it in a catalog for Ignatius Press and got curious.” “That is a point, though. I mean, I know homeschoolers and devout Catholics who are in the military. But at the same time they seem to me to have an almost undue reverence for America: bordering on worship, sometimes. America must be defended. Why? Because she’s America, of course! A-mer-icaaa…But the Church is outside of nationalities.” “I’m not Catholic, Ronnie.” “Christian?” “Well, mostly…” “You believe in God.” “Yes, how could you not? I mean, it’s mind-boggling to even '' think '' about there being no God. Nothing at all would make sense.” “But yes, that’s why in conscience I could never be in the military. Not to mention their sudden welcoming of—well, I don’t know how you stand toward homosexuals, but as a devout Catholic I believe they are wrong. And when wrongdoers are bowed down to and worshipped, we’re in deep trouble. But let’s not open that can of worms.” “Good call.” said Carlee dryly. “I know what you mean—I don’t approve of them either—but your stance is a little harsh.” “If you don’t approve of them, that too is a harsh stance.” “How did we get on this?” Carlee wondered. “You made an anticop remark and suddenly we’re debating the nature of authority. You really are unique, Ronnie.” “Why, thanks.” said Ronnie shyly. Their pizza came around then and they busied themselves with eating. Ronnie had ordered garlic bread as well—light, toasted crisp, buttered and with not too much garlic—and he shared that with her. “Travel warned me we might hit a restaurant, so I brought $10.” said Ronnie. “But I didn’t think I’d be dating a certain wonderful girl. If we stop by my house, I can reimburse you for some of that.” “Why, that’s very nice of you, Ron. I appreciate that. Yes, I suppose a five or so would help.” said Carlee. They had ordered a medium pizza. “Ronnie.” she said meditatively. “Is that short for anything?” “It’s actually a worn-down form of two words in another language, Ronmond Wendtho—Ronnie Wendy. An old name of a mountain out by Mad River Dam; it means Hill of the Road.” “That’s a funny name.” “It deserves it.” said Ronnie with a slight shudder. “You do not walk lightly upon the height of Temple Fell. It’s a queer place.” “So I can see.” murmered Carlee. “There is something very strange about you, Ronnie…as if something vast and complicated is woven all around you, hanging in air where you walk, as if wood and tree and soil are forming a tapestry, and your name runs through it like fire.” “I was right about you.” said Ronnie. “I said once that you were one of those who can see, who know what is and isn’t real. There aren’t many.” “I always wondered about this place,” said Carlee lightly, feeling a need to change the subject. “I mean, nobody seems to know why it’s called Sophia’s. Why not any other random name?” “It is called Sophia’s, because the owner is named Sophia.” They glanced up, surprised, and saw a tall slender lady in the red apron of the kitchen staff. She had fine golden hair, brushed very bright and glossy, and a strikingly beautiful face that it was difficult to put an age to. Her skin was unwrinkled, so she couldn’t be past thirty, but the expression, and especially the eyes, were those of a woman of much experience. She was smiling. “So sorry to interrupt,” she laughed, “but I was going to ask if the is all right and everything well, and then I heard your remark. But yes, she is named Sophia, Sophia Laran, and she lives overseas.” “Are you the cook?” said Ronnie, “because if you are, I wanted to tell you I’ve never had such good pizza.” “I boss the cook.” she said with a husky laugh. She had a low, strong voice of the kind described as passionate, though it bore no passion at the moment. “A very good man, but he not-a know everything, hmm? Thank you, however. I will tell him.” She walked slowly back toward the kitchen, and Ronnie could hardly help his eyes lingering on the grace of her carriage. “So, what do you want to do after this?” Carlee said as they consumed the last pieces. “Considering this is practically a date.” “Well, I did bike here,” said Ronnie, “so you’d have to drop me off at my bike anyway.” “Where do you live? Burrville? That’s a bit of a ride in the dark. Yes, you dunderhead, we’ve been talking so long it’s nearly evening. I live right here in Winsted.” “Nice. At least you don’t have far to go.” “Well, I was going to say: before I stuff your bike in the trunk and drop you off at your house—“ “—Yes, and I have that money to give you.” “—that too—how about we stop at my place first and watch a movie? I have a roommate, though I don’t know if she’s going to stop in or not tonight. Labor Day weekend, she’d be hitting the bars.” “The high notes or the low?—Just joking, I know what you meant.” “That was a good one, though. I’d crack it to her, but I don’t know if Cassie would even understand the point. So, what d’you say?” “Sounds good.” “Right, and then I’ll pick up your bike and drop you at your house—unless you don’t want me knowing where you live.” “I don’t have any reason to conceal it, as long as you don’t go siccing jealous boyfriends on me.” “He’s not my boyfriend; we were just ‘seeing’ each other.” “You’d better make sure he understands that. A man has to have things laid out to him in plain words: '' No, I am not your girlfriend.'' Otherwise we get some very strange ideas in our heads.” “You know, that’s a good point. I’d better call and clarify things with him. Oh yes, we’d like a check, please.” to the pretty waitress. Ronnie gave her his ten and she paid the rest, and they worked out how much he would reimburse her. She insisted on paying half. Then Ronnie went to use the bathroom while Carlee stepped outside to call up Dave. Ronnie was still hanging around the car a quarter of an hour later when Carlee came up, red and angry and with glistening eyes. He only said, “Are you all right?” “I hate you.” she said through her teeth. “And your advice. And your damn perceptive eyes. The jerk acted like he'' owns'' me! ‘''Where were you all day, I was calling and calling, how dare you not pick up.’ '' I told him off proper. I told him he’s not my husband and freaks out when I bring up the subject and he has no right to go owning me, and he starts calling me a bitch and an a—h--, so I broke up with him. So I don’t have a boyfriend.” “I’m sorry.” said Ronnie softly. “That’s too bad.” “Yeah, and then the jerk starts shouting at me that he has a new father now and things aren’t going to be the same, and then he starts threatening.'' I’ll make you crawl, bitch, I’ll make you whore to me, I’ll make you lick my—''you know what—''I’ll make you beg me to stop the pain''. I’m seriously freaked. Do you think he’ll harm me? I mean, it does not sound like Dave. Not at all.” “I have a new father now.” muttered Ronnie. “This does not sound good.” Carlee’s house was only five minutes away, up some side streets under Street Hill. It was a queer old Victorian townhouse of great age, high, square and white, and rather narrow, with a steep roof and gabled porch, pale in the evening gloom. Several ancient outbuildings and garages lay at the back of the rectangular yard, half buried in trees. The neighborhood was open and shadeless save for a few ancient withered trees, quiet tall old houses standing above green lawns. Street Hill’s cliff towered dim and cloudy in the background. “Is this all yours?” said Ronnie. “Part of it; Cassie and I only rent the top floor. Somebody else rents the rest. Landlord’s a real pain. No taking stuff out of the garages. No storing stuff in the garages. No gardening; it would mess up his nice lawn. And so on.” She led him up a flight of wooden steps in back. A white door at the top led into a hallway, which had the attic stairs on the left, and at the end a newer door had been installed for her apartment. “Tenants can use either attic or basement for storage; our keys fit both. I never had much to store, so that’s not a problem,” Carlee said as she unlocked her door. “Dead silence, that means Cass isn’t in. She plays the most gruesome death metal/rap/you name it. I don’t know how you stand that stuff.” “I don’t.” “ ‘You’ in the generic tense.” “Yes, I know.” “Want a soda?” said Carlee brightly, opening the fridge. “And there’s Oreos on the counter—I kept them for Dave, cause we girls have to watch our fat, you know.” “Thanks.” They decided on ‘Nanny McPhee’, as all her other movies were what Ronnie described as “wussy girl movies”: chick flicks, sappy romances and bad comedies. “Cassie likes those.” The other side was full of horror movies, SAW, Dawn of the Dead, Resident Evil, The Fog. “Let me guess. Cassie?” “Pretty much. She just likes getting scared stiff. I can’t stand even thinking about them.” “Same here.” said Ronnie grimly. “When you have a normal mind, the abnormal is abhorrent to it.” “Yeah, you have to be pretty messed up to like horror. I mean, I can see some kinds of horror, like in the Shelob scene of Return of the King, but the sick kind, the really horrible kind—you have to be, like, disturbed '' to enjoy that stuff.” The movie was one that Ronnie really liked. They sat squished nicely together on the couch, and Carlee let him put his arm around her, but rather to her surprise he didn’t proceed any further than that. Quite unlike Dave, who pretty much didn’t know the meaning of ''Hands off, and she would get so tired of slapping him she usually just gave up and let his fingers roam. She even got to like it. Ronnie’s behavior was a surprise, and somehow touching. When the movie (and the Oreos) were done, they stayed on the couch, talking now and again. It was very pleasant, even homey. But as midnight drew near and Ronnie began to yawn, they reluctantly got up and went out to the car. They drove to the beach in near silence. Ronnie got his bike into the trunk and tied down the lid. Carlee laughingly declined his offer of a night swim, although the air was still pleasantly humid. As they drove to Burrville, Carlee said, “This has been such an interesting date.” “Yes, I really enjoyed it. Shall we go out again?” Carlee laughed. “I would really like that.” she said. “Let’s see…give me a call on Friday, and I’ll see what the weekend’s like.” By the time they got halfway down the lake Carlee had the radio working and was playing a weird Dies-Irae-like Goth metal song by Virgin Black. It was a sad, queer, song, “like the background music for a movie scene of a defeated army.” as Ronnie put it. They parked and sat in the car until it was finished. “Come inside for a moment.” said Ronnie, after they exchanged phone numbers and emails and he had unloaded his bike. “I have something for you.” She followed him inside. He ushered her to a seat while he counted out the money he’d agreed to give her, and as she put it in her purse he reached into his hung-up coats and took out a long umbrella, black, furled, with a hooked cane handle; it looked like a strange sort of sword. “Keep this with you.” he said. “Take it in the car when you go anywhere, and hang it in your room when you sleep. It is my greatest gift to you that I can give. There is a virtue in this umbrella that enabled me to keep at bay all the dragons in the carnival. I can’t say if it will work for you—but I think it will.” She took the umbrella a little doubtfully. “Is it a Staff of Power or something?” “No,” Ronnie said sternly. “I said it has a virtue. I don’t think it’s magic at all. I think it may transcend magic completely. But it did protect me—and it may protect you.” “So I shouldn’t call the police?” Ronnie looked at her wearily. “I think the police would only bring you harm. I do not advise you to call them. If you do, do not mention my name or let them know about that umbrella. Can you promise me that?” “Yes, Ronnie. I promise.” “Then let us seal the pact.” said Ronnie softly, bending toward her. Their lips met and clung for a long time. At last Ronnie ended their kiss. “I wish I didn’t have to go.” whispered Carlee, her arms about him. “Sooner or later, all of us must go.” Ronnie murmered. “That is the way of Middle-earth. God be with you, dirla.” Back to Arheled